Don't Follow in His Footsteps
by Laurellyn Turner
Summary: Margaret Turner, the daughter of Elizabeth Swann and William Turner, finds her place in the world.
1. Mommy Knows Best

**Chapter 1 – Mommy Knows Best**

I woke that morning with the same feeling as I had every day in the recent months: an uncomfortable combination of guilt and longing. As usual, I woke up alone, craving just the opposite. The banging on the door to my room began again. I quickly wrapped my robe around my body and called out,

"You may enter." My mother appeared in the doorway. She truly was beautiful. Her dark blonde hair was pulled high on the back of her head with several ringlets at her ears. That morning, she wore a pale velvet gown that rippled lightly around her feet when she moved. Lace traced the deep neckline and a pale silk scarf dangled gracefully from her shoulders. Her mouth was perhaps her best feature. She could light a room with her smile or make you want to crawl into a hole with her scowl. She always said that a person could make you believe whatever they wanted just in the expressions on their face. She made people believe. The morning sunlight played on her face through the cracks in the heavy curtains on the other side of the room.

"Margaret, we have things to attend to today. Have you forgotten your lessons?" No matter how free a soul my mother had, she was very proper. How could she not be? She was the only daughter of the governor. She was raised proper and intended to do the same for me. She didn't want me to end up on the streets someday with no skills and no education. That could very easily happen in those days, especially to women. My father always warned that "if something were to happen" to either himself or my mother, that I could be left with very little. That was just the way things worked. They wanted me prepared.

"No, ma'am. I'll be down shortly," I replied. There never was any arguing or questioning with my mother. One just did what they were told.

My father crept up behind her then, still in my doorway. He looked at me first, raising a finger to his lips, indicating that he did not want his presence announced. He wrapped his strong arms around her, not allowing her to move. She giggled.

"William Turner!" she exclaimed. "Don't make me scream." His hands flew up in mock surrender. He always played that he was scared of her. Maybe he really was.

"Am I to be punished?" he asked jokingly. Mother got a devilish grin on that mouth of hers. She knew exactly what he was implying and did not intend to let him get away with it.

"Yes, you are," she whispered. She whipped around, her gown flying about her bare feet, and began to tickle him. The fact that he was one of the most ticklish men alive was a secret that was jealously guarded by our family. He shrieked like a little girl as he struggled to free himself.

"Elizabeth! No! Someone _help_ me!" He continued to cry out until he managed to pry himself lose and run off down the corridor like a scared puppy with its tail between its legs. I just shook my head.

"Honestly, mother. Sometimes you two behave just like children."

The morning moved on as it always did. I glanced at the clock in the hall often. The minutes slipped by slower than I could stand and I grew more and more anxious. My lessons seemed boring and my attention wandered. I watched intently out the parlor window, down the road to where the local shops stood. I waited impatiently all morning. Noontime came and went. By then, I was more than anxious. I was worried. Nicolas had never been late. Not once.

"Mother," I asked. "Wasn't Mr. Kingston scheduled to drop off the new horseshoes at the stable this morning? It isn't like him to be so tardy." Mother looked at me, a puzzled expression drawn across her face.

"_Nicolas_ Kingston?" she inquired. I nodded. "Margaret," she continued. "Haven't you heard? Mr. Kingston has fallen ill, poor thing. I don't know how he plans on making a living when Dr. Morris has put him on a strict bed rest. He'll be laid up for quite some time, I'm told. Even Dr. Morris can't figure what exactly is wrong with the poor boy. 'Similar to pneumonia,' he said, 'only different'. Strangest thing really..."

I didn't hear any more. I was out the door of the parlor, pulling my overcoat on, and stepping out onto the street, making a run to the blacksmith shop, my breath short and worry already filling my heart. Nicolas, I knew, would _not_ stay in bed, no matter how ill he was.


	2. Blood is Thicker Than Water

**Chapter 2 – Blood is Thicker than Water**

The shop was dark. I called Nicolas' name time and time again, but received no reply.

"Nick? Nicky! Nicolas Kingston, you come here this minute!" I jogged up the stairs to his quarters above the shop. He wasn't there. I went back down to the workroom and saw the warm glow radiating from the old iron stove in the corner. I stepped over and opened the door to the stove. The embers glowed golden hot. The fire was new. I crept around the stove to where Nicolas kept the wood and coals for the fire, careful not to burn myself of the warm iron. There he was, on the floor, a gash across his head, still bleeding. The backside of the stove was smeared with his warm blood.

I dropped quickly to the ground beside him, shaking him gently. "Nicky, it's me, Meg. Nick, wake up!" I lifted his head into my lap and rocked him. A tear slipped down my cheek and landed on his soiled face. He was so thin, so gaunt, so pale. Before I knew what I was doing, I scooped him up in my trembling arms and carried his frail body to the door. He was so light...too light. Running out into the street, I began to shout, "Help! Someone, please, help us!" A man was coming out of the next shop and immediately rushed up to me. He took Nicolas from my arms.

"Is he breathing?" the man asked.

"I think so," I stuttered, nodding. I brushed the tears and hair from my face and followed the man toward the private home of the town's only doctor and surgeon, Dr. Franklin Morris. He claimed to be the best doctor ever to treat patients, that he could cure anything. Then again, no one could really argue with him on that point. The truth was, most of the citizens living on our island had never been anywhere else and had never had the chance to encounter a doctor other than Old Man Morris.

The doctor was home that day, having his midday meal in the kitchen. When we came stumbling in, he stopped in his tracks. He shoved everything off the table and the man from the street laid Nicolas' limp body on the cold wood. Morris recognized Nicolas immediately. He paid little attention to me as he went to work. He cleaned and bandaged the wound on Nicolas' forehead and listened intently to his haggard breathing. Then, he pumped some sort of drug into his arm with a long needle. I couldn't watch. Then Morris sat down and told me to wait. An hour passed before Nicolas began to regain consciousness.

I could hardly bear to look at his face. It was white and thin. His eyes, which were usually warm brown windows into his heart, were glassy, pale, and bloodshot. It was as if his body was there, but his soul was missing somewhere. All I could think about was finding it, bringing it back to him. I couldn't look at him in the same way as I usually did. He coughed weakly. Morris looked him in the eye.

"What did I tell you about staying in bed, son?" he asked. Nicolas struggled to speak audibly.

"I can't...pay...if I can't work," he managed before a coughing spasm took hold of him.

"You could have killed yourself today, son. You're lucky this young lady found you when she did. A little longer and you would have been beyond even _my_ aid." Nicolas slowly turned his head toward me. For a brief second, he smiled faintly and I saw that old glimmer in his eyes.

"Meg," he whispered. Then, as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. Nicolas passed out again and we did not try to wake him. I looked at the doctor.

"I'll make sure he stays put this time," I assured him. The old man looked at me quizzically.

"Who are you?" he asked. "You aren't family, are you?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I'm...a friend." The man from the street, who turned out to be Morris' son, helped me take Nick back to the room above the shop, where I stayed until he woke again.


	3. Forever Never Ends

**Chapter 3 – Forever Never Ends**

"You have no idea how lucky you are, Nick. If I lost you...do you have any idea, how badly you scared me today?" He grinned that cocky grin that could make you either love him or hate him more that ever.

"When I woke up on that table," he explained quietly, "I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't hear anything either. I could only see fuzzy images and I had no idea where I was. I saw you though, even though who you were didn't completely register. You looked so beautiful. I thought that I _had_ died and you were an angel. I hope all angels are as beautiful as you."

"Nick," I scolded, lightly punching his shoulder. "I'm not flattered. I'm worried about you. What were you doing? Were you _trying_ to kill yourself? Because that's essentially what you were doing!" What he told me next made me even more proud to know the man.

"When I was still only a little boy," he began, "I was left to care for myself. My mother was dead and I had no memory of a father. I worked the streets, trying to earn a coin or two to feed myself. I never once went as low as the other boys did, stealing food from carts and using the little money that they made for other things. I was taught to be respectful and respectable. That lesson was the only thing I had left from my mother. She always told me that if I did what I was told by authorities and respected them, I would, one day, also be respected and admired. So, I learned to work hard and live. If I didn't, I would have died very young. When I found out that I had skills as a blacksmith, I grabbed the opportunity and ran with it. I had my own business by the time I was sixteen...which was when I met you." He smiled briefly, then went on. "Some people don't understand it. I live alone. If I don't work, I don't get paid. If I don't get paid, I can't pay for things I need, like food or attention from Old Man Morris. I know he's just trying to help, but he doesn't understand what it's like to be alone. People like him have family and servants to help him. No matter what, I have to keep going. I have no one."

I moved closer to him and laid my head on the thin pillow beside his face. Reaching out, I took his hand and weaved my fingers between his.

"You're wrong," I told him. "You have me, Nicolas, and I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here forever." He reached toward my neck and pulled at the chain that I wore under my collar. He fingered the plain engagement ring that usually lay hidden beneath my dress on the fine chain.

"Promise?" he asked quietly. I brought our clasped hands around the ring and kissed his fingers.

"Forever never ends."


	4. Hidden Mysteries

**Chapter 4 – Hidden Mysteries**

"Where have you been? We've been worried sick about you!" my mother exclaimed within seconds of my return. The sun had set long ago and I realized that I had no conceivable clue as to what time it was. I knew very well that I couldn't tell her where I had been. After all, she was the governor's daughter. She was of high standing. As a matter of fact, I was supposed to be as well. There was no way she would approve of my love for Nicolas. He was a blacksmith. For quite some time he had been only a blacksmith's apprentice. He was a nobody in most eyes and my love would have been more than frowned upon. It would have been forbidden.

"Nowhere," I lied. "Mother, I'm really very tired. I'll retire for the night. We can talk in the morning." I couldn't stand lying to her, but I had few other options and fatigue had set in well over an hour earlier. I didn't have the energy to make up an elaborate story right then. "Good night, Mother." I hurried up the stairs and into my room. I shut the door and undressed. Within minutes, I was in my bed, ready to doze off. Then I heard the shouts.

Mother was shouting at Father about something, probably me. I didn't hear any responses from him, so I assumed he was being calm and coolheaded, as usual. I had never heard my father raise his voice. My mother shouted a lot, not because she was mean or short-tempered, but because she had to be heard. When she spoke to Grandfather or any of his colleagues, she was ignored, being the only woman in the conversation. It took a raised voice and persistence to be heard in those conversations and that habit tended to carry on to other discussions. Eventually, the noise subsided and I thought I would finally get some sleep. However, I had no such luck. There was a light tapping on my door. I considered ignoring it, but figured that if my mother were at my door, I wouldn't hear the end of her complaints the next morning.

"You may enter," I called. The door creaked open and my father poked his head in. His hair was a jumble and he looked as though he had been sleeping.

"Can we talk?" he asked innocently. I knew that he came by his own will. Mother had not sent him to investigate my day's whereabouts. I nodded.

"What about?" I asked him. He stepped into my room without a sound and sat down at the end of my bed.

"Has something been bothering you, sweetheart? You haven't been behaving like yourself lately. You know you can talk to me about anything." He honestly was very concerned. For some reason, I had always been able to relate to my father better than I could anyone else. I never could really figure out why.

"Have you ever had something that you couldn't share with anyone? Something that you knew could have serious consequences if anyone found out?" I began. I didn't want to tell him if he couldn't relate to my situation in the slightest. I knew I could trust him, but I didn't want sympathy. I wanted respect and acceptance for what I felt. I wanted my parents to accept my love for Nicolas as if he were Morris' son or another man of the same stature. Above all, I didn't want anyone to look down on Nick. He worked so hard for his respect and I didn't want to compromise that. My father surprised me then.

"Yes, I have." I stopped short. To tell the truth, I wasn't fully expecting him to answer as positively and as bluntly as he had.

"Really?" He nodded an affirmative.

"Yes," he replied. "Meg, what's bothering you? I really do want to help." I began to sob, burying my face in his lap. He held me tight and combed his rough fingers through my hair as he always did to soothe me. His embrace was reassuring, but I still didn't know what to say or how to say it.

"I know, Daddy. I just don't want to hurt anyone..."

"It's okay," he whispered calmly. "I won't tell anyone if you don't want. This can stay between us." I sat up and looked into his concerned face and sighed.

"Okay. Daddy." I paused, bracing myself for his reaction. "I'm in love." My father never ceased to amaze me and this was no exception. His face lit up as he grabbed me by the shoulders and hugged me tight.

"This is wonderful news!" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you share this with us earlier? What were you afraid of?"

"Father, please," I interrupted, shoving him back. "There's more," I continued. He sat back and looked at me with a puzzled expression. "I'm not just in love..." I pulled the ring, newly engraved, from beneath my sleep gown and showed it to him. "I'm engaged. I have been for several months now." I couldn't be sure, but I think his heart skipped a beat as he read the inscription on the metal band. _Forever never ends._

"Meg," he whispered, dumbfounded. I interrupted him before he could ask what I knew he would momentarily.

"Father, I'm not marrying one of grandfather's suitors. They are boring and insolent and far too stuck up. I am marrying Nicolas...I love Nicolas." He continued to stare for a moment, then began to smile.

"Nicolas _Kingston_?" he asked. I nodded in reply. Then he began to laugh. Right there in front of me, he laughed! He laughed so hard that I saw tears in his eyes. I wanted to run from the room and cry until I could cry no more. "He's the blacksmith, right?" he asked, making sure he was thinking of the right man. I could tell that he was. "Oh, Meg," he said, trying to control his laughter. "You remind me so much of your mother."

"What?" I wondered out loud. My father settled himself down and began to tell me a story.

"When I was a boy," he began, "I was a passenger on a ship to the Caribbean with my mother. Our ship was attacked and most of the passengers drowned. I was saved, though, by a girl my age named Elizabeth." He paused for a moment.

"Mother?" I inquired. He smiled, as if remembering the first time he saw her.

"I was taken to her island, this island, where her father was governor. I ended up working as an apprentice in a shop in town...the blacksmith shop. The old man who owned the business didn't do much other than drink and collect money, taking credit for every horseshoe, every tool, every weapon that came out of the shop. None of the townspeople knew that it was I that made their treasured swords and repaired their machinery. I was their messenger boy to my master, letting him know how much his work was appreciated." He paused, tears in his eyes. "I always loved your mother, but it was improper for me to say so." I was astonished. I watched as he gathered himself, wiping away the tears conjured by the old memories that he had obviously tried so hard to forget.

"What happened?" I encouraged. He shook his head.

"That is a whole story in and of itself. Am I correct in assuming that you know the legend of the Black Pearl?" I was confused as to why he was asking me this, but I went along with his strange behavior.

"Yes, the Pearl was a pirate's ship. The legend says that the ship and its crew of cursed pirates attacked our island many years ago. The captain was said to have kidnapped a girl and her lover and a pirate friend rescued her. They reversed the curse on the pirates and then killed their evil captain."

"That is a fairly accurate version of the tale. I can only see two problems with your rendition. First, it wasn't many years ago. It was only twenty. Secondly, all of the characters have names. The kidnapped girl was Elizabeth Swann. The pirate friend was a rogue called Captain Jack Sparrow, and the lover that you mentioned had the name Will Turner...me. After the raid, I realized that Elizabeth was taken by the ghastly pirates, so I snuck to the jail, released Jack, and followed him to the Black Pearl." Now it was my turn to sit in gaping shock. My father never lied to me. I didn't think he was even capable of telling such an extraordinary tale. He was creative, of course, but truth be told, he never could lie very well. That was what confused me most. I didn't know if he was trying too hard to comfort me or if he had finally lost his mind after years of banter from my grandfather.

"Father," I started. He cut it quickly.

"You don't believe me, do you?" I didn't know what to say. "Tell me then. What does...um..._legend_...say about how the evil pirate captain Barbosa was defeated?" I searched my memory for the end of the story that I had learned so long ago.

"The good pirate shot him as the hero cut hit hand and put the bloody medallion in the cursed chest. The curse was reversed and the evil pirate died." My father grinned as he held out his left hand, palm up. A thin white scar traced its way along his palm. I gasped.

"Daddy?" He nodded.

"Its true, Meg. It's all right. I'm not some kind of rogue like Sparrow, using our family as a disguise. I gave up my short career in piracy when I married your mother." He put his hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay with all of this?" I was still astounded, but surprisingly, I _was_ okay with it.

"Yes, Father, I am. I have to admit, some of this is a little hard to swallow, but I really am fine. In fact, I am better than fine. I just don't understand why you never told me all of this before."

"Your grandfather's idea. Who else would ask for all of that to be kept secret?" We both began to laugh. I embraced him and stayed in his arms, laughing, for several long minutes. Just then, a thought came to my mind.

"Father, what did you say the good pirate's name was?"

"Jack Sparrow...Captain Jack Sparrow, that is. Why do you ask?" I shook my head as I began to laugh again.

"Uncle Jack isn't really my uncle, is he?"


	5. Enter the Hero

**Chapter 5 – Enter the Hero**

There was no one like him, a man with a lifestyle and a world all his own. The world was there to do with what he pleased and he intended to enjoy it. He loved life, women, drinking, and the sea. He rarely left the water of his ship. They were him. He was them. The captain of the infamous Black Pearl would not be compromised or cheated. He would not leave himself unsatisfied. He would not wait for good things to come to him. He would seek them out, seize them, and use them for all their worth. He was loyal. He was one. He was Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Where's my favorite niece?" Jack called, stumbling through the front door of the mansion early that morning. He waited, perplexed, for a response. "Ello?" There was still no answer to his greeting. "Well, that's odd, isn't it now..." he said, beginning to talk to himself, a sure sign that he either had something big on his mind or he had been drinking into his beloved supply of rum before dawn. He looked around the room and noticed a figure in the far doorway that led into the main office. Shadows surrounded the person, who appeared tall and slender. Nevertheless, he was left blind as to the identity of this would-be intruder. Being the good pirate that he was, he drew his sword with a flourish and lunged toward the dark doorway as he shouted a challenge. "Who's there? Show yourself!" From the darkness came a familiar voice.

"Now, Jack. Is that any way to treat an old friend?" The shadows filtered out at the man stepped forward into the bright entryway.

"William Turner!" the captain exclaimed upon seeing my father. They each stepped forward, Jack sheathing his blade. Will put out his hand in greeting, but Jack ignored it, wrapping his massive arms around Will's chest, lifting him a foot from the floor.

"It's good to see you, too, Jack," he gasped. Putting him down, Jack looked around the room again.

"Where's the rest of the motley crew?" he asked his friend and past companion.

"Elizabeth is upstairs, sleeping. Meg is...not here." Will paused for a brief moment. "She knows, Jack."

"Hmm? What does she know?" Jack asked, clueless.

"She knows about me," he replied, "About you. About the Pearl." Jack was taken aback.

"How'd she figure that one out, mate?" Jack inquired as he pushed a beaded strand of hair under his hat.

"She's engaged to the blacksmith," he began, grinning, before he was interrupted. Jack took a long step back.

"That grungy Kingston boy?" Will nodded.

"I had to tell her when she told me that." Jack adjusted all of his "effects" as he made his way back to the door.

"I was just about to make a point of stopping there. Lad's got a dagger for me." He stared into space, imagining the beautiful weapon he was soon to receive. Will interrupted his thoughts.

"Are you going now? I don't suppose you could check up on Meg for me?" Will asked, still concerned for his daughter and her ill fiancé.

"Sure, mate. Not a problem. I'll bring her back here in a flash." He agreed.

"She needn't come home. I just want to know how she's doing over there." Will argued.

"Oh, but she does, my friend. She needs to be with mommy and daddy when I tell you what I know." Will's eyes were confused. "I didn't come here just for a visit," Jack continued. "There's trouble a-brewin'."


	6. Strange Reunion

**Chapter 6 – Strange Reunion**

"Jack!" I shrieked as my "uncle" bounced through the door of the shop. I was sitting on a stool, doing inventory for Nick. I may not have been able to help him make things, but I could at least help him with his paperwork and supply shopping, so I did. Upon seeing me, Jack's hands flew up in the air and he strode flippantly toward the table where I sat.

"Ello, love," he said, grinning, as he strode over to me. His hips usually moved wildly from side to side when he walked and the beads in his hair jingled most every time he moved. When he smiled, I could nearly see my reflection in his gold covered teeth. He usually had a cheery sort of charm in his face that was stimulated by women and rum, but that day, the smile he was showing me was a fake. It was like he was wearing a mask. I didn't like the look in his face or the lack of bounce in his step. I didn't think anything could possibly ever be wrong with Uncle Jack, but it was. Something was very wrong.

He bent down to the stool and gave me a huge hug. I thought I felt a tear drip from his makeup-encircled eye onto my shoulder. Then he sat down beside me, all traces of sadness disappearing as quickly as they had seemed to come.

"What is it you're doing here? 'Rithmetic work, by the looks of it..." I grinned.

"Yes, I'm helping Ni...Mr. Kingston with some paperwork," I said, quickly covering myself. Jack shook his head.

"Your old man's already told me about you an' 'Mr. Kinston', love. No need to worry 'bout your Uncle Jack. Secret's safe here," he assured me. "He also told me you figured out the truth 'bout me..." He paused to look up at me from the math that was clearly confusing him. "No hard feelings, am I right? It wasn't like I was tryin' to lie to ya, love. Your granddad can be a real stickler when it comes to the kind of...er...messes that your parents and me made for him. He's not one to brag about his son-in-law the pirate or his friends. It's just not in 'im." Jack paused to think about what he had just said. "Not that I have anything against your granddad..." he added quickly.

"It's okay, Jack. I understand. I know that Grandfather can be a pain. I've lived with him my whole life." I waited to see if he'd say anything else. When he didn't, I added, "So, why did you come to visit?" The expression on his face changed quickly again.

"We've got some business to take care of at the house. You'd best come home quick. I don't want to see you left out of this loop," he told me, a twitch in his face. "Why don't you fetch the Kingston boy and tell him to get my blade that I'm waitin' on, and we'll head over to the mansion, the two of us." I looked at him strangely.

"I can't go get Nick. He's resting." I told him.

"What's a healthy young boy like him doin' resting in the middle of the day?" he asked me.

"Nick's _not_ healthy," I explained. "He's very ill. He can't get around on his own. And he definitely is not going to be coming down those stairs as long as I have anything to say about it...I'll get your blade from his supplies. He's already got it made. He didn't know when you were coming." I began to walk to the supply case when Jack grabbed my arm and stopped me.

"Can't move around on his own, you said?" he asked, a worried expression on his face. "He'll be coming with us then. Fetch my blade, love. I'll carry the boy." He turned on his heel and half walked, half ran to the steep old stairs. He disappeared into the darkness above, leaving me wondering what was that important that Nick would need to be moved in such haste.


	7. It All Comes Out

**Chapter 7 – It All Comes Out**

My family sat in the family room as Jack paced the floor in front of them. I looked at my parents, seated on the loveseat opposite me. I sat on one side of the comfortable sofa, Nick's head in my lap as he lay there quietly, trying desperately to stay awake.

"Jack," my mother coaxed. I think she was afraid that Jack would soon wear a crevice in her beautiful hardwood floor. "Tell us what's happening. What is the matter?" Jack shook his head, as if rattling himself out of a daze.

"My apologies, love," he started. "I suppose you are curious about my unexpected arrival, then?" We all nodded. "Well then," he continued. "I mustn't wait. Danger's on it's way..." he paused, staring into space again, as if the danger he was speaking of was too difficult to explain.

"Go on, Jack," I urged. He looked at me, a tear in his eye.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, love..." He looked at my father. "You must leave Port Royale," he said. My father's eyes narrowed. Mother moved forward in her seat.

"Why, Jack?" he asked, confused. Jack shook his head. He didn't want to say.

"It's slipped," he said plainly. I was confused, as was Nick, but my parents understood perfectly.

"What happened?" Mother demanded. Father knew exactly what it was that had happened. He just needed to know one thing...

"Who?" Rising from his seat, Father strode to where Jack stood, grabbed his shoulders and stared deep into his eyes. "Who did it?" Jack looked away and fought to bring out the words

"The governor." Those words hit Father like a knife. He took a step back, stunned, eyes wide, mouth open in silent accusation. My mother shook head violently, unable to believe the words that still hung in the air like a deadly fume.

"No...no, it's not possible...he promised..." she fought the idea out of her head. Confused as I was, I decided it best to interject before things got out of hand.

"What the hell is going on here?" They all looked at me, realizing that I was indeed clueless. Jack seemed resolved to tell me, since he brought the news in the first place.

"The fact that your father was a pirate on one of the most well known crews in recent history is something that would have worked against him in many ways if it had not been kept a secret. Everyone who knew made a solemn pledge not to let that secret out. Nonetheless, we all can't be as trustworthy as the next person, now can we, love?" He stopped and looked at my parents. Mother was crying softly. Father was staring blankly at nothing in particular. He seemed like he was in a deep sleep with his eyes open.

"It seems that, whether he meant to or not, your granddad let our little secret slip. Everyone here in Port Royale respects your family, so those that have heard are ignoring it. Unfortunately, news travels fast. Found out in London, already, they have. Three royal British ships are right behind me, only by a day or so. They're filled with soldiers ready to storm the island, arrest Will and take him back to London. They're gonna hang him, love...hang him right in the center of London for all to see. See, they don't trust the people here to do it right...think the citizens here are softies that'll let him go. They can't trust anyone with the job but themselves. With all of the pirates that have escaped these shores..." He paused. I knew that he was included in the number in question.

"Well, they want to set an example for the fine, upstanding folk of Port Royale. Show them what's _supposed_ to happen to pirates." He stopped again to let the news sink in. "What they didn't figure on, though, is that Cap'n Jack of the Black Pearl heard about it, too. And everyone knows that the Pearl is faster than any of their 'Royal' ships..." he added, mockingly. Father finally stood, the color back in his face.

"I am not leaving my family behind. Everyone pack." He turned to Jack. "You have room, don't you?" Jack nodded.

"Plenty, mate. Pack your things, all. You're sleepin' on the Pearl tonight!"


	8. The Life For Me

**Chapter 8 – The Life For Me**

It wasn't every day that the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow underestimated his beloved ship. However, he did...just this once, at the most inopportune time. We packed hurriedly and rushed to the Pearl, Jack carrying Nick. It wasn't until later, when we arrived at Port Teyal on one of the smallest islands in the Caribbean, that we found out that the Royal British fleet arrived at Port Royale two days after our flight. That news didn't make my parents the happiest people in the world. My mother, in particular, was far from pleased.

The arrangement on the Pearl was far from comfortable, and I was the one with the least complaining allowed. I had my own room. It was a small cubby tucked back into a wall. There was a bed with drawers that pulled out from beneath it. The head of the bed had a ledge where I could set my candle at night. That was the extent of my mobility off deck. I had a bed. However, like I said, I was allowed the least complaint. My parents had a room similar to mine. They, however, had two people to fit in their cubby. I'm surprised they never got stuck. Then there was Nicolas. Nick was still ill and the roughness of the waves in the Caribbean didn't help any. He shared a room with Jack. We all figured that Nick needed the most room of us all and allowed him the comfortable first mate's bed in Jack's quarters.

It wasn't until we had been out an entire week that we came to the next island and its miniscule port, Port Heyforn. There, we docked and found rest in the only lodge Heyforn had to offer, the Slop Bucket Inn. The owner of the Slop Bucket truly lived up to the title. He tended pigs and we were all pretty sure that he fed us the same things he did them. We were all pleased to be on solid ground for a few nights, though. The food was of little importance at that point.

Our first night at the inn was quiet. We all rested in our rooms peacefully, with the exception of Nick, who was coughing violently in the room beside mine. Once in the night, I heard my father enter Nick's room. A short time later, the noise subsided as Nicolas drifted off to sleep. I didn't even bother to ask my father what he did. As long as it got Nick some sleep, I don't care.

The second night however, I went to the common room with Nicolas after dinner and sat with him at the fire. He had a large wool blanket wrapped about his shoulders and he warmed his hands in front of the blaze in the stone fireplace. As I did the same, he noticed my left hand.

"You've put the ring on your finger," he pointed out. I smiled at him and nodded.

"There's no need to hide it anymore. They all know now, and they're all happy for us. Why hide the ring where no one can see? I'm not ashamed of you...I hope you know that..." He grinned that mischievous grin of his.

"Of course I know that. Its just that I had so much fun pulling it out when I wanted to see it..." I flicked my hand at him in a mock slap.

"Nicolas Kingston!" I exclaimed, taken aback by his candor. "Watch your mouth!" I cupped my hand over his mouth, trying to block the sound in as best I could. He grabbed my hand with both of his, but it was not an aggressive gesture. His hands seemed smooth...smoother than I can ever remember them being. He held my hand there, in front of his lips, and began to kiss my fingers one by one. He finally pulled away and looked into my eyes, a serious tone in his expression. I stared back into his beautiful face, which had lately been so pale. He was still pale, but the fire had added a rosy color to his cheeks, bringing his face to life. I stared deep into his eyes, as he did to mine. I knew that he was seeing a pale, icy blue, which he thought to be beautiful. Nevertheless, I felt sorry that he wasn't seeing what I was. His warm brown eyes flickered in the firelight. I felt as though I was being sucked into the depths of his soul. I wanted it to stop before I unleashed some secret desire of his heart, but yet, I couldn't tear my gaze away. For all that I tried, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not just then.

We stayed that way, staring at each other's eyes for what felt like hours. In reality, only a few precious moments passed before he whispered in my ear.

"I love you, Meg," he said, as he bent closer to my ear and began to kiss my neck. My body felt as though the fire had spread to my insides. I was warm all over as we kissed there, alone, beside the fire. _What would mother think if she found us like this?_ I wondered to myself as I leaned into Nick's arms. He may not have had all his strength back, but he could have fooled me. His arms wrapped around me so tightly that I thought all of the heat building up in my body may explode out the top of my head. As we laid beside one another on the cold stone floor, beside the warm fire, beneath Nick's soft blanket; as I drowned in those passionate kisses; I wondered how anything could be bad in the world when life in its entirety seemed perfectly flawless.


	9. Busted

**Chapter 9 - Busted**

I awoke the next morning freezing. I didn't know where I was. It had been quite some time since I had awoke in a grungy room fully clothed. As I looked around the cold stone room, my eyes fell upon Nicolas, lying beside me. His body was wrapped up, his arms around his chest, his head facing toward me. His face was calm, peaceful. His breathing was steady and quiet. I remembered then. I remembered the night before; what took place beside the fire. We had stayed up into the early hours of the morning. I was pleased to realize that my parents must not have walked in on us. I would have had a lot of explaining to do if that had been the case, and I really hadn't done anything wrong. I checked the time, which read ten thirty in the morning. I was surprised no one had come into the room yet. _Perhaps, _I thought, _I am the luckiest woman alive. Maybe sheer luck kept everyone out..._ I turned to Nick and rubbed his shoulder.

"Nicky," I whispered. "Nick, it's getting late. We should get up." Nick rolled onto his back, stretching, and stared at the ceiling briefly before turning back to face me. He smiled, not his goofy smile or mischievous one, but a real genuine smile.

"Good morning," he whispered back. "How did you sleep?" I smiled back.

"Alright. You?" Nick sighed as he fell back onto his back and closed his eyes.

"Better than I have in a long time..." I had noticed it, too. He hadn't been up all night, coughing. He had slept peacefully. I could only imagine how good that must have felt for him. He opened his eyes and sat up. I noticed that his face had more color than usual. It looked more like it had the night before, only now there was no fire causing it. As he began to get up, however, he began to sway. I jumped up and grabbed his arm with one hand and wrapped my other arm around his back to steady him. I guided him back to the floor before his knees gave out completely. Once he was sitting safely on the floor again, head in his hands, I spoke.

"What happened? Are you alright?" He nodded and lifted his face. He looked as though he had just seen a ghost.

"Yeah...I don't know what happened. I must have gotten up too quickly. I got dizzy and blacked out for a minute..." We sat for a few more moments before I helped him up slowly. I led him back to his room so he could change for breakfast. Once he was safely in his room, I went to mine to do the same.

Breakfast was uneventful. Jack had gotten up early and had already eaten. Nick and I ate with Mother and Father, who were quiet. They usually were at mealtimes. They said it was "proper etiquette". They finished quickly, leaving Nick and I alone at the table. We talked as we ate and Nick told stories that made me laugh as I hadn't in quite some time. We were just finishing when Jack entered the room.

"'Ello, love," he said to me. "Nick," he greeted, inclining his head slightly. He sat down between us as if there were plenty of room, when in reality, we were sitting so close together that when Jack picked up an extra chair and swung it between us backward to straddle it, he ended up more behind us than between us. We reluctantly moved our chairs slightly away from each other to make room for Jack.

Jack's face was serious, or at least, as serious as Jack could be when he had obviously already been sampling the inn's fifty-year-old supply of rum that morning. He put his hands down on the table and looked at them for a moment before turning to each of us in turn.

"Meg...Nick...I just wanted to tell you two lovebirds that you don't have to worry about ol' Jack." I looked at Nick. Nick looked at me.

"What?" we both asked in unison. Jack shook his head, like the explanation was obvious and we simply weren't getting it.

"I promise, pirate's honor, that I won't tell your mum and dad, love."

"Jack," I said slowly, "You need to explain what you're talking about." Jack rolled his eyes and head.

"The cellar is through the common room..." We were still confused, giving Jack very blank expressions. "The rum is in the cellar..." We still stared, but this time, because we under stood.

"The rum was in the cellar..." Nick started, staring into my eyes. My eyes had grown wide.

"We were in the common room!" I exclaimed. Jack nodded.

"But, lass, I promise. Your secret's safe."

"Thanks, Jack," Nick said. "We owe you one."

"Just be more careful from now on, eh?" Jack requested. Nick and I looked at each other once again, a mixture of relief and anxiety flooding through the distance between us. We spoke once again in unison as we both dove toward Jack and engulfed him in a huge hug.

"We promise!"


	10. Man Overboard

**Chapter 10 – Man Overboard**

After about a week, we left Port Heyforn. Back aboard the Pearl, things didn't seem as horrible as they had the first time. Mother and Father were upbeat, the water was calm with the wind at our backs, and best of all, Nick was doing better. He was even taking the time to take care of himself each day. His dark, messy hair was clean, combed, and tied back with a black ribbon. His shirt and vest were clean and his skin smelled fresh and felt smooth to the touch.

The day it happened was a peaceful one with a steady breeze. Father stood at the wheel, speaking with Nick, who sat beside him. I stood at the bow of the ship, leaning over the railing, the wind in my face. Mother was below deck, presumably sleeping. Jack, the legendary captain, was perched in the crow's nest behind me, whistling and talking to himself.

Just then, I heard a yell behind me, followed by a loud grunt. I whirled around just in time to see Jack, who must have just slid down the rope from the crow's nest and was now being flung across the deck by the giant mast, fly over the railing and into the water below. My father let go of the wheel, which he had just turned hard to port, sending his friend careening from his own ship. He ran to the left rail and frantically searched the still water.

"_Jack! JACK!_" he screamed. When Jack didn't appear for several long, excruciating seconds, he threw off his vest, belt, and boots and dove from the deck, headfirst.

Nick went straight to the railing where my father had just stood, eyes wide with horror. I ran, on impulse, to the steps that led below deck. I flew through the narrow corridor and threw open the door to the room where my mother slept. Just as I did, the ship gave a violent jerk that sent me somersaulting into the wall. As I rose from my crumpled heap on the hallway floor, I pushed myself through the now open doorway, yelling at my mother.

"Get up! Jack went overboard and Daddy went in after him!" My mother sat bolt upright, in somewhat of a daze. I darted toward the stairs and heard her footsteps at my back. As I reached the deck, my heart jumped into my throat. I screamed. The anchor was down, Nick was gone, and strange noises echoed from the water below.

It was my turn to peer over the edge. What I saw surprised me so much that I nearly fainted and fell over the side as well. Jack, Will and Nick were all in the water, swimming around a short distance from the ship, splashing each other and laughing hysterically. Nick looked up at me.

"Meg! Come on down! We dropped the anchor, so the ship isn't going anywhere!" My father joined in.

"Come on, Maggie! The water is warm and calm and there's no under current today!"

"_William Turner!"_ came a screech behind me as my mother arrived at the railing. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" The men in the water all laughed even harder.

"Come on, love," Jack shouted at the top of his unusually loud, rum induced voice. I looked at my mother. Our eyes met and I smiled. Reluctantly, she went to the edge of the dock and let down the rope ladder, which she began to climb down. I shook my head and took off my shoes. Then, I climbed up to the top of the railing and balanced there. The light breeze blew on my face and through my hair. I jumped.

I fell for a long time before my hands touched the water, followed by my head, chest and finally my legs. My body plunged into the dark depths. I arched my back, curving my outstretched arms toward the surface. My momentum carried me back up to the daylight. I resurfaced right in front of Nick. Jack and Father were helping Mother into the water and were paying little attention to Nick and I. Technically, Father was trying to help her. I think Jack was trying to look up her dress. She kicked him squarely in the face, which kept him preoccupied for a good while.

Nick pulled me close. The water seemed colder as his hot breath condensed on my face into tiny droplets. He kissed me then. He was passionate and we continued to kiss and we sunk into the water, not caring if we ever got air again.


	11. Davy Jones' Locker

**Chapter 11 – Davy Jones' Locker**

It was the worst day of my life. It wasn't fair. Why end like that? We were all astounded. Jack, of course, felt terrible. Daddy said that there was nothing we could have done...but there was. We weren't paying attention. What had easily been the best day I had ever experienced turned very rapidly into the most horrible. It only took a few seconds.

We were all having such a good time: dunking, splashing, kissing...Jack turned to dunk Father, leaving Nick and I alone, unsupervised, and Mother holding onto the ladder that hung from the side of the Pearl. We all could swim, but ever since Mother's incident years ago with a corset under the black surface, she was much more timid in the water. The wind picked up and shifted, pulling the ship lazily about its anchor. None of us paid attention as it picked up speed, creating a strong, artificial undercurrent below the ship. We didn't notice, that is, until we heard Mother's scream. We all turned just in time to see her sucked below the surface, pulled, it seemed, by invisible hands in the darkness below the massive vessel.

"Elizabeth!" Father screamed with a terrified shriek in his voice, diving after her as the wind continued to cause the Pearl to cut through the water in our direction. Jack grabbed him by the back of the collar and swam away from the ship, pulling the struggling man behind him. Nick clasped my hand and did the same. I couldn't move. If it weren't for Nick, I probably would have sunk down without even realizing it. Then the wind stopped again. Not a breath of air moved over the water. It took a long moment for the gigantic ship to stop moving. Jack had no need to let go of the collar in his hand. Once the movement ceased, Father tore himself from the shirt and dove deep down, leaving Jack at the surface with the wet material in his hands. He followed Father down, leaving Nick and I alone once again. He hugged me tightly. I clung to him, trusting in his strength to keep me from drowning.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to wake up, to end this nightmare. Three days later, the nightmare hadn't ended. The darkness hadn't abated. The hole in my heart ripped wider with every beat, with every breath, with every second that passed. None of us had the mind to think, to act, to move. Wrapped in blankets below deck, we sat, trying to make sense of what had happened, torturing ourselves with "what ifs". We did all that we really could conceive of doing when we found her body pinned to the ship by the rear rudder. We buried my mother in the only place that seemed appropriate: the place where my parents met, where they were married, where I had been born...We buried her in the depths of Davy Jones' locker.


	12. The Spanish English French Woman

**Chapter 12 - The Spanish English French Woman**

Days passed. Before we knew it, it had been four months. We docked one afternoon in Port Milagro. We went into the first inn we saw and found the manager. The sign above the door read _Sleeping Bear Inn_ and the name really seemed to fit the place. It was quiet and dark and there was no one to be seen. Nick found Mr. Daniels in a back room at a desk, counting coins.

"What can I help you _fine_ people with?" he asked with a false politeness. Father explained that we wanted a room fit for four: three men and a woman. Mr. Daniels took a swing from a large mug that held a dark drink with foam near the rim. "I think I've got something..." Several minutes later we were sitting in a dusty old room with two small beds, a table, a chair and no window. Faint light filtered through the grimy air through the cracks and hole in the ceiling of the dank establishment.

"I'm going for a walk," Father said. I offered to accompany him, but he turned me down. "I need to be alone for a while," he said. With that, he left the room again. It was only later that we found out what he did during his walk. I turned to Nick and Jack.

"I'm worried about him," I told them. Nick wrapped his arms around me as Jack responded.

"I know. Me too, love. Me too."

Will walked slowly down the filthy cobblestone street. _Port Milagro is much different than its name lets on,_ he thought. It wasn't until he had been walking aimlessly for near to an hour that he noticed the smoke rising up into the sky from not too far away. In fact, he had been walking toward it for that entire time without being conscious of it. He began to pick up the pace in his steps until he was running at top speed toward the billow of black soot. The screams for help rang in his ears and pressed him on. When he got close enough to realize what was happening, he stopped in his tracks, in shock.

The huge cathedral in the center of Port Milagro was aflame. Even the courtyard just beyond the cast iron gate was being devoured. The flames at the top of the steeple threatened to lick the buildings that surrounded the giant church. Will began slowly toward the black gate. It was difficult to see much and impossible to tell if there was anyone inside the burning building. Just as Will decided in his mind that there was no way to help anyone who may be trapped behind the black cloud, he saw a figure dart past, just behind the entryway.

_Elizabeth_, he thought. The image of the woman played back again in his head. To his mind's eye, he had just seen his wife, dressed as a nun, run past him, imprisoned in the fire. _I'm not going to lose you again._ He quickly examined the gate and, although it was securely locked, he immediately recognized the same double pin barrel hinges that held the doors of the prison cells back in Port Royale. A wave of déjà vu hit him hard as he seized one of the two matching benches that sat on either side of the gate and pried the gate door from the wall. He ran deep into the black haze. Just then, he saw the figure again.

"Elizabeth!" he shouted, grabbing her by the waist and flinging her over his shoulder.

"Get your bloody hands off me! I swear I didn't start that fire!" she screeched in a thick English accent. Coughing severely through the dense smog, Will continued to run, struggling to keep the thrashing woman in his arms. Once they reached the town square, a safe distance from the flames, he let her go.

"Elizabeth?" he asked.

"Why the hell do you keep calling me that? I'm not called Elizabeth!" With that, the woman with Elizabeth's face pulled the top of her nun's habit off, revealing a thick head of wavy, raven black hair.

"You're not Elizabeth!" he exclaimed, nearly falling back from shock.

"I'd noticed..." she said, beginning to walk away.

"Wait!" Will shouted. "Who are you?" The woman turned around, having already shed the remainder of her nun's costume, revealing a slightly more suggestive outfit beneath. She was dressed in a short black skirt over tall leather boots complete with a line of silver buckles. Her chest was coved with nothing more than what looked like a black shirt that had seen a bit of fighting. It was torn in half just below her breasts. One sleeve was missing. The ensemble was made complete with a black leather belt and red bandana tied around her head, containing the thick hair.

"Jacquelyn Detoe, mate. Parents were Spanish, born in France, grew up in London. That was before I came out here. Me friends call me Jack," she introduced herself, sticking out her hand and shaking his briskly. "And you are..."

"Will Turner." She took a step back.

"Hey! I know you! You're from the Black Pearl! I heard all about you last summer in Tortuga from some old bloke called Gibbs! You're legen'dry 'round these parts!" All the while she was shaking his hand harder and harder until it felt as though it might fall off.

"Thanks," he muttered, very confused at this point. He looked down at the nun's costume, still in her hands, and the gold and silver chains dangling from the costume's pocket. "What were you doing in there?" he asked. She blushed, embarrassed.

"I swear on me ship, wherever my brother's got it at the moment, that I did not start that fire! I heard something, and I tripped, and the table fell over and I think there were candlesticks on it. But I didn't do it on purpose, I swear! Hey, you don't mind if I meet the rest of the crew, do you? See the Pearl and all that?" Her eyes were sparkling with desire.

"It's just me, my daughter, her fiancé, and Jack. But, sure, you can meet them if you like."

"Great! Lead the way, Mister Turner! Guess you won't be callin' me Jack, now will you? Call me Lyn. My family calls me Lyn." With that, Will, still dazed and bewildered, began the trip back to the _Sleeping Bear Inn_, with Lyn close at his heels.


	13. An Abysmal First Impression

**Chapter 13 – An Abysmal First Impression**

I sat in the dark, dusty common room with Jack and Nick. _Where is he?_ I wondered. The sun was setting in the window. Just as I moved to look out at the street again, the door flew open abruptly.

"Oh," my father started, obviously very surprised to find us all waiting in the dark. "Hello, everyone." He had a peculiar look on his face, as if he had a secret and the world would cave in on itself if he didn't pass the message along. His hair was tousled and his face was dark with black soot. The sleeves of his white shirt were scorched around the edges and he smelt of smoke. I jumped up from where I sat and ran to him.

"Where have you been? What happened to you?" He wrapped his arms around me. I took little comfort from the embrace. He smelt faintly of burnt flesh.

"It's alright. Maggie. I'm okay. Nothing happened." The light that filtered in through the open door danced through the dusty air, casting strange shadows across the dark room.

Looking past him into the haze, I noticed the silhouette of a woman just beyond the doorway. She shifted her weight, allowing a sliver of light to reflect on her face. She was about my father's age, give or take a few years. She wore tattered black clothing and a red bandana over her raven hair. She, too, looked a bit singed.

"Father," I asked. "Who is she?" He took a step back and followed my gaze to the doorway. A wave of realization passed over him, as if remembering an essential clue to a puzzle. He beckoned the woman into the room. Now, with her standing such a short distance from me, I was able to inspect her with a bit more accuracy. She was definitely younger than my father. The soot and probably painful burns that riddled her face did not hide that. She was tall and beautiful. She had the complexion and build of the Spanish sailors that I had seen come through Port Royale many times in my childhood. However, I didn't trust people who wore black, especially not in a place as dark as that one. My gaze did not leave her for a second.

"Everyone," my father said, addressing Jack, Nick, and myself. "This is Lyn. I...er...met her, that is, we met each other...on my, well...on my _walk_ this afternoon." His stammered introduction told us very little about this woman and why she was now standing in our midst. For several seconds, we all sat in an awkward silence.

Lyn was the first to move. Her eyes grew wide and she moved swiftly to the other side of the room where Jack sat on a stool. As she drew close to him, her eyes suddenly squinted tight. She appeared to inspect him carefully, first from the left, then the right, all the while scurrying back and forth, moving her lips as though working out a difficult problem in her mind. Suddenly, she jumped back and exclaimed,

"You're Jack Sparrow!" Started, Jack jumped back, momentarily forgetting that he was seated and falling hard on his buttocks. When he had righted himself and regained his composure, he replied, correcting her as he always did.

"Right you are, love. But that's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, and you needn't forget it." My father shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Lyn. Where are my manners? Jacqueline DeToe, meet my good friend, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, my daughter, Margaret Turner, and her fiancé, Nicolas Kingston," he said, gesturing to us all in turn.

"Dios mio," she muttered, turning to me. "She looks just like you, Will." Ignoring Lyn, I turned to my father.

"Father, what happened? Tell me the truth." At that, we all sat around the table in the center of the room and my father told us what had happened, Lyn adding her own tidbits along the way, constantly reassuring us that the fire in question was not her fault.

Sensing how uncomfortable I was, Nick nudged Jack, pushing him to end the story quickly.

"Well, my lad, you've had quite the day, now, haven't you?" Jack asked, putting his hand on my father's shoulder. He gasped and pulled away from the touch. I jumped up and pulled his shirt away from his skin, revealing black, charred flesh from his collarbone to his shoulder blade.

"Father," I exclaimed.

"It's nothing, Maggie," he insisted. "I'm fine."

Back in our room, I treated my father's burns and put him to bed. When the whole ordeal was over, he was tiered and sore. I fell asleep before I closed the door. I passed by the common room on my way down the hall and saw Jack and Nick talking over a couple of mugs of the thick brown liquid that the owner had provided. I stepped outside to breathe in the fresh air, amused by the fact that Nick and Jack got along so splendidly, as different as they were. As I sat myself down on the step in front of the inn, I noticed Lyn seated on the curb, twirling a long knife between her fingers.

"Lyn," I called. She turned around, started.

"Meg, right?" she asked.

"Yeah. Do you want to sit down?"

For the next hour, we sat on the step and talked. She told me about her family. Her parents had disappeared years ago. No one really knew what happened, but they were in the pirating business, so it could have been any number of things. She also had a brother who was a few years older than her. Antonio was following after his parents. He had even taken Lyn's own ship without her knowledge. He did write to he occasionally, though, promising to return it. Lyn herself was a rogue. She had fended for herself for a long time and I respected her for that. I had decided that, although I agreed with my father in that Lyn bore a strange resemblance to my mother, the two women were nothing alike. Mother liked to be taken care of. It sounded like the most Lyn would allow would be for a man to buy her a drink or two. Beyond that, she made her own living.

When she had finished telling me about her family and lifestyle, I told her about mine. I described what it was like growing up in Port Royale in the Governor's house. I told her all about Nick's and mine secret engagement and showed her the beautiful ring. I told her about the price on our heads, or rather, my father's, and our run from the British Navy. Finally, I told her about my mother. She must have told me a hundred times how horrible it was and how sorry she was for my father and I.

When dark had fallen over the inn and we could scarcely see each other anymore, we decided to turn in for the night. Lyn rapped on the innkeeper's door and asked for a room. When he griped and complained, she paid him extra. No sooner had the coins hit the counter than the innkeeper handed Lyn a key to the room beside ours. As she opened the door to the room, she turned to me.

"I think you may be the firs' person I ever talked to like that, ya know? It was nice."

"Yes," I said, smiling. "It was."


	14. Love Hurts

**Chapter 14 - Love hurts**

Lyn did not replace my mother, but it was good to have a girl to talk to again. I knew that I could tell Nick anything, but there were always some things that required another female to confide in. For example, I couldn't talk about my love life with Nick. Talking with Jack was pointless and bringing up the subject with my father would have been very awkward. Lyn became like a sister to me over the next few weeks. The Black Pearl didn't seem as gloomy and...well...black with my new friend so close at hand. I had begun to keep a diary in which I confided all of those secrets too deep to breathe a word of, even to Lyn. I kept the little book in a crack in the frame of my bed's base. These new confidants – Lyn and the diary – made things seem much simpler. Talking to them was a way to sort my mind out with little interruption. I spent the days with Lyn, mealtimes with Father (and occasionally, Jack), and devoted my evenings to Nicolas, the love of my life.

In the dark midnight hours, I removed my diary from its hiding place, taking it to my desk to scribble down my latest thoughts. I swore to never let another breathing soul lay eyes on the little book – a promise that I wasn't sure I would be able to keep, knowing the curious nature of the others on the ship. I sat at my desk on one particular evening, selected a favorite pen and dipped it in my ink.

Dear Diary, I wrote.

I am torn between two worlds. I have unspeakable sorrow coursing throughout my veins, mixing unpleasantly with the strongest passion that I have ever known to exist. I miss my mother like a fish that has been taken to the kitchens misses its skins and seawater. Its salty remains flood from my eyes each and every night with the deepest pain and anguish imaginable in heaven or below. I have no doubt that I will feel this wound for many years – as though someone reapplies a concoction of lemons and salt to it daily.

The worst part, however, is the happiness I feel right now. It seems to be an insult to my mother's memory not to mourn her properly. I feel so in love with Nicolas that I fear I may explode into a thousand little pieces, beginning in my heart of hearts. Is this a sin? Is it horrible for my pain to be interrupted by my thoughts of Nick's hands on my skin? I imagine his deep eyes. He enters my dreams at night, taking away the tears that put me to sleep to begin with. His love gets me through.

I just wish there was an easy way to solve my dilemma. Would my mother want me to mourn properly, or love properly? I know that she was a romantic, but am I perhaps exaggerating this characteristic in an attempt to get what I want? I am so confused!

If only there was another way to get it all and give it all. If only life were easy and sensible. If only I could talk to Nick about this burning that boils within my chest and brain. If only he

It was then that the one overcoming my thoughts interrupted me. The light tap on the door was not a request for entry, but merely a warning that entry was coming. I was suddenly faced with Nick, standing in my doorway. I stood, halfway between the desk and my hiding place, clutching the book in my white-knuckled grip.

"Meg," he inquired. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I..." I struggled to think of a lie, any lie. _But why?_ I wondered. What was so horrible about what I had just written that it had to remain hidden? Nick knew that I loved him. He would keep any secret that I asked him to. Why shouldn't I share my feelings with him?

"I was writing in my diary," I concluded my stammering abruptly. There was no shame in so innocent an act. A devious smile crept onto his face.

"What were you writing about? Am I in there at all?"

"Nick," I scolded. "These are my most personal thoughts!"

"Exactly," he said. "Am I part of them?" He drew me close. How I love that feeling: his strong arms wrapped around me like a blanket, the touch of his lips on my skin, the smell of his hair. I soaked him in and melted in the same instant.

"Every page," I breathed, dropping the diary to the floor. Pages tore and those thoughts of mine flew open haphazardly for the entire world to see. I didn't care. My thoughts could not betray me if they resided in love. We embraced and our lips locked together so tightly that I felt almost as if we were a part of the same body, connected eternally by the bonds of love, stronger than any other connection in existence.


	15. I Do

**Chapter 15 - I Do**

I stared into the face of an angel. Indeed, I felt a bit like I was in heaven. All of the bad in my life seemed to disappear. On a day as beautiful and perfect as that one was, there was no use for bad thoughts.

We had arrived in Port Laurel two days earlier. The place was much lovelier than any other we had seen since leaving Port Royale. In fact, the town was fairly reminiscent of that of my birth. The town square was laden with shops of all sorts. Bakers and butchers displayed their finest products in the windows to lure in hungry customers. People walked down the cobblestone streets, examining merchandise and making purchases. Nick and I strolled, hand in hand, amid the hustle and bustle. We sampled chocolates, browsed the carts, and even bought a few trinkets. Life was blissful.

Our time in Port Laurel passed wonderfully. By the end of our first afternoon there, Nick and I made a significant decision. We had all fallen in love with the area and chose this to be the place where Nick and I would be married. As a result, I spent the next day and a half entirely with Lyn.

My father spent a lot of time working out details and logistics, as he was good at doing. He found a beautiful chapel located near the beach. The building had no ceiling or real walls. It was more of a pavilion than a building. Nevertheless, it was beautiful. It was possible to see the beautiful trees and flowers as well as the ocean from inside. It was exactly what I would have chosen out of every cathedral and chapel in the whole Caribbean.

Jack accompanied Nick in his search for appropriate attire and, of course, the rings. When my thoughts wandered to Nick over those next days, which was often, I wondered if Jack was more of a hindrance than a help, but Nick seemed to be happy to have the pirate with him. Nick really was an amazing man. Nothing seemed to get him down. He was an enemy to no one.

Lyn told me that her mission was to make me more beautiful than she was. She also said that the comment had been a joke, but I appreciated the remark. She truly was gorgeous. I also noted a hint of sentiment in her voice. Maybe this was stretching the truth a bit, but I sensed that she was once again comparing her appearance to my mother's. I appreciated that mare than I could explain, whether that was what Lyn had meant to come across or not. Either way, we were all ready by the time the service was scheduled to take place.

I felt truly stunning. My dress was not meant for anyone short of royalty. Its skirt flowed in graceful ripples to the floor while the top half boasted a fair amount of cleavage. The bodice, which was embroidered with lace and beads, met the skirt in a point. The sleeves were silk and fully attached only at the shoulders and elbows. A single braid wrapped around my head, adorned with flowers, making a proper springtime crown. The rest of my hair rippled to my shoulder in soft waves amid strings of the same fresh flowers. A delicate gold chain hung from my neck with the exquisite engagement ring dangling from its end. Lyn carried the full train of my gown as we made our way to the sanctuary of the pavilion.

Nick was more beautiful, inside and out, than I can describe. He was dressed simply, in fine pants and shirt with a black vest and belt tied about his torso. He smiled at me as I appeared in the rear of the room. He radiated love, happiness, and excitement. I looked into his eyes and felt as though they were windows into heaven.

My father gave me away. We each promised to love and cherish each other to the end of time. We exchanged rings. They were glorious gold. The priest gave Nick permission to kiss me. He smiled and kissed me passionately. I didn't want him to stop.

All good things must come to an end. Besides, my father was seated a mere few feet away. We left the chapel floating on a cloud. After helping me pin the train of my gown up, Nick took me for a walk along the beach. We walked along the water's edge until the sun set, not talking, not needing to. As the island became dark, we made our way back to the inn.

Our room was plush. Fresh flowers, no doubt left by Lyn, sat on the table. An unopened bottle of rum sat beside the vase, obviously Jack's idea of a wedding gift. The location was private. Our room sat on the opposite end of the inn from the others. This arrangement was most probably my father's contribution to the evening.

I need not describe what happened next. It was our wedding night.

"I love you," Nick whispered in my ear.

"Then love me," I told him.

He did.


End file.
